Jet Set Radio: Remixx
by FennyTehRogue
Summary: A massive retelling of the Jet Set Radio world. Katsuro Matsuoka is your normal teen slacker till a chance encounter with a rudie after a beatdown. Katsuro is thrust into a world full of chaos, blood, sweat, and paint. [I am horrible at summaries. Heavy cursing, among other things. My first posted fanfic.]
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Bloody Pavement

Casturo POV

It's the same shit every fuckin' day.

Wake up, take a piss, brush my teeth, get dressed, and go to work. Simple as that. It's been this way for god only knows how many years ever since he took over the fucking town. Ginzou Hiroka, the president of the Silver Seven Corporation and now the long standing government official of our town. He's had this role ever since I hit ten years old. At first, shit was real cool; the adults were pretty chill with this rather creepy, white haired guy. Then, everything hit the fucking wall after a month of him being elected when he changed our society to a totalitarian one. He destroyed free speech, all expression of one's creativity. You get shot by the police for breaking the norm nowadays.

Ain't life in Silvervale grand?

Today, on my way to work at a factory owned by SSC, I saw a Sliver Keeper beat the living hell out of a stoner guy on some modified roller blades. He was blasting that pirate radio station that only those not fearful of any authority figure out of his rather funky headphones before that asshole Keeper smashed it with his plated boot before he left the poor bastard lying there in a pool of his own blood.

I wasn't about to leave someone to bleed out on the sidewalk, even if I was late to my job. I got over to him once the Keeper was out of sight and slowly turned his seriously limp form. He was about my age, had dyed light blue spiky hair, a septum piercing, gauges, and a pair of now busted shades.

"Yo, man. You gonna stomp on my face too, man?" His voice was rather weak as his nose bleed over his busted lips, his gray eyes peering at me through cracked lenses.

I shook my head. "No, dude. I'm trying to help you."

"You're wearing a factory jumpsuit."

"Yeah? I work at Factory Twenty Three. I melt junk metal for the Sliver Keeper armor."

He stayed quiet after that as I lifted him and his bag of something. We were close to my house so I brought him into my little box of an apartment and laid him on my ratty couch. "So, what's your name?" I asked him as he peeled of his glasses. He glanced at me for a moment before speaking. "Russell. Call me Check, though, please."

I gave a nod as I handed Check a wet towel to wipe the blood from his face. "So, why are you all colorful, bro?" He gave a half grin once he wiped his face clean and took his septum bull ring and stone one inch gauges out.

"I'm surprised you don't know what I am, man. I'm a rudie, you know, what the dorks on TV call us." I then realized exactly what this guy was.

Rudies are people with fancy modified rollerblades, weird dances and gangs, and are always spraying graffiti on the walls. Some are political; some are just pictures or a name. Sliver Keepers, news reporters, and adults always call these guys "Juvenile delinquents that are so rejected from society that they do anything to become noticed in the world and hate any authority figure introduced to them because they become threatened of not being noticed." But I can understand why they hate it. They don't get to be themselves or express untapped potential.

"What's your name, dude? You're my savior and all." He was looking me over, as if he was trying to see if I was trustworthy or something. I looked back at him with the same look over. "My name is Katsuro Matsuoka. You can call me Casturo if you can't pronounce my name, some people can't." He grabbed my hand and shook it in his gloved one, that grin growing on his face. "Nice to meet ya, Casturo, you're a serious lifesaver. Hey, want my number? You seem to be a cool guy, dude, and I am always up for new pals."

Eh, why not? He seemed harmless and was rather nice, aside from being a criminal in the eyes of our government. So, after we switched numbers, he packed his stuff away in his bag and was off with another thank you and a thumbs up.  
After that whole mess, I called my boss and called in sick since, well, I had blood on my jumpsuit and the extras were in the wash. I didn't want to go in looking like I murdered somebody on my way to work. Of course I was promptly chewed out, told that if Mr. Laffer wasn't friends with my dad that he'd fire me for missing work too much and yadda, yadda, yadda…

Around five in the afternoon, my phone rang right beside me as I slowly dosed off to sleep. I grumbled, picked it up, and checked my messages. Heh. It was Check. He wanted me to go to his hang out near the abandoned Factory One district. I didn't have plans and I didn't have work the next day so, I said fuck it and told him I'd be there soon. And after a short bus ride and a little walking, there I was, right behind an abandoned house with Check. He looked a lot better; he had changed his outfit and obviously took a shower since his hair was slicked down.

"So, where are we, exactly, Check?" He gave a grin as he peered over a pair of shiny blue and silver shades. "My peoples hang out spot." Was the rather chill reply he gave me.

"Your 'peoples'?" I asked as we opened the gate to the backyard.

"My friends and I live here."

"Seriously? Do you guys even have heat or working water? This whole area has been abandoned since the second half of the factory exploded and shrapnel fell and killed people. "

"Burn knows how to fix that shit, his dad taught him since he used to work for the city and stuff."

"Burn?" He answered my question as soon as he opened the back door.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Meeting the Peoples

Casturo POV

There he was. A lanky, red headed guy with the most piercing green eyes I've ever seen peering at me as soon as the door was opened. "Heeeey, Burn. I brought the guy that saved my ass earlier." Check poked the side of my head as the red head looked me over like I was a pack of fresh steak ready for buying. He took rather swift steps towards me before stopping a mere few feet away, parting pale chapped lips to speak.

"Well, what do we've have here? He looks like your Average Joe if you ask me, Check." His voice was slightly chilling, as his gaze switched from me to Check beside me.

"He is, really. But, he's seriously awesome." He put an arm firmly around my shoulders with a large grin invading his features.

"Is he? Hm. He has to prove how awesome he is. Can you blade, kid?"

I could, a little. I hadn't in years, though. Why would he want me to rollerblade anyway? "A little bit, why?"

"Well, why not? If you wanna hang with a pack of Rudies, then ya gotta know how to blade." He scratched his mess of fire red hair as he looked over at Check, who looked rather uneasy at this point.

"Burn, don't bring him into our biz, he's not in any legal trouble and we shouldn't do that to him, man." Said Check rather timidly as he looked up at Burn. Burn shot back a look at him and then I saw him visibly straighten up. No one had to tell me that Burn was the leader of the gang Check was in, his aura and speech finally showed it.

I straightened up slowly, gaining my courage. "I'll give it a go. Do you have any extra skates?" That made Burn's lips curl into a wide grin. "Well, of course, man. Hold on a second." He turned and yelled out into the living room. "Viruz, get your happy techie ass in here with the extra skates! The ones on the table!" Then I heard a crash then a clatter. Out came a lime green haired dude wearing neon colors from a side room. He was holding a pair scratched up baby blue and ebony black skates with dull blue wheels. The metal was scratched and weather worn.

The goggle wearing techie handed me the skates with a small pause. "Here, dude. Careful, these are kinda wonky." I just nodded as I walked and sat my ass on the couch, pulling the skates upon my feet with ease. "These feel fine, comfy really." That little comment of mine made Burn give a small grin.

After a little encouragement from Check and one hell of pep talk, I rode out into the backyard and executed a few grind tricks on a nearby metal bench. Damn, I'm lucky that this sector of town is abandoned or I'd already be swamped with Silver Keepers ready to beat my ass. My tricks had Burn and Check staring at me all stunned and amazed that I could executed such sweet moves and combos with barely any practice in the past few years.

"Where did you learn to do shit like that?" Burn asked me once I skated back up to them. He sounded rather stunned at me. Apparently, from the look in his eye and the expression on his face, he wasn't expecting a whole lot outta me, which is perfectly fine considering I'm used to shit like that. I shrugged my shoulders then reach a hand out to rub the back of my neck.

"I used to blade here and there before it became illegal." He raised a brow at me very slowly then he gave a grin that would make any Cheshire cat green with envy. He put a thin, bony gloved hand out to me. It was random so I blinked at the action in a confused way. "What?"

"Casturo, right? I'd like you to join the Crimson Wave. You don't have to. But hey, give it some thought, right?" Check looked seriously surprised at his leader but I just kinda stood there for a second. Burn put his hand down at this side after a minute or two but kept that pleased as punch grin on his features.

"I'll let you sleep on it. Give me your answer soon, 'kay?" He sounded like he had a plan with me, needless to say. The look on his face spoke a thousand more words than he did.

After about an hour or two of hanging out with this strange gang of misfit teens, (primarily with Check and Burn, that Viruz kid stayed in a back room nearby and I guess there were more people, I didn't snoop or anything) I took the G bus line back down to my house. Right on my beat up oak door was a note taped to my door. Ugh, my mother again wanting me to return back to the house, move back in, blah, blah, blah...

I moved out about three years ago when good old dad decided he wanted to pick my career for me. My mom agreed with him, sad to say. All I wanted to do was pick my own fate, deal my own deck of cards, ya know? They wouldn't have it, so, I ran. They found me months later and got this box of an apartment for free. I guess a guy owed dad, dunno. Then I got a crummy job smelting old bits of metal into Sliver Keeper attire, again, thanks to dad. Pah. I bet my mom forced that old bastard to get this crap for me, he wouldn't do it for his own pleasure. I balled that stupid note and pitched it, walking into my dark house with barely audible footsteps.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Second Hand

Casturo POV

It had been a couple of days since hanging out with the Crimson Wave gang, group, whatever. I was curious as to what had happened to them. It was as if the group had dropped off the face of the planet, considering my texts and calls to Check had gone unanswered. It was an off day for me, so I decided to go to Second Hand Sound, the last music store in the whole damn town. Sliver Keepers always stood at the entrance of the building with rifles in hand. Why? What would people do with music? It's not a physical weapon, but I suppose music can be a lyrical one.

Shane stood at her counter, big bulky headphones around her thin neck. She looked bored with her station as clerk and owner of her establishment, which I guess I would be too if no one came into your store very often. Her emerald green eyes light up like sunlight when she finally saw me.

"Heeey, Casturo. What's shakin' your bacon?" She placed her elbows on the glass counter top, dyed dark blue and lime green pixie cut hair shifting slightly over her eyes.

I shrug a bit with a little grin on my chapped lips, shoving gloved hands into my hoodie pocket. "I'm fine, Shay. How's the business goin'?" The light drops from emerald. She gave a heavy sigh from her vocals. "You should see it's going to shit. Rudies made my business pop but Sliver Keepers scare em' off. It fuckin' blows, Cast. My parents stopped funding my rent, the only reason this place is still open is for the fact I run the cafe on weekends." She glanced at her coffee making equipment behind her. I guess her barista gig in collage paid off for her.

"So, Shane..." I lean in slowy to her so the nearby Keepers couldn't hear. " Have you ever heard of the rudie gang called Crimson Wave?" She looked me dead in the eye, like she was trying to see what I already knew. She glanced out her door before switching back to me.

"I need help in the back room, follow me." Oh boy.

I go behind the counter and follow her into the back room. She leaned against a nearby box of old CDs. "Yeah, I know of those guys. They are one of the main three."

"The main three? What's that mean exactly?"

"Alright, listen. There are many rudie gangs here in Slivervale, some small and some big. Punkin' Heads, Mayhem Knights, Skeleton Rangers, Faceless Assassins... Blah, blah. Those are small time gangs. Crimson Wave, Hellhounds, and White Wolves, those are the big timers. Now, I'm guessing you know Burn." I nodded my head and she gave a huff. That brought a question to my mind.

"How do you know all this?" She leaned forward a little, brows raised slightly as her lips curled into that same grin Burn had days before. "I used to be a rudie. Went by the name West. I was a White Wolf before Taze pissed me off. Needless to say, never work with an ex girlfriend, Katsuro." Well, I just learned two things about my best friend.

She's an ex rudie annnnd a lesbian. Oh, the things you learn on a chilly afternoon. "How didn't I know about this?" She yawned as she rolled her neck around to crack it. "It was the couple months we didn't talk much because I was finishing up collage and you were trying to find a job." Oh. She reached a hand over to ruffle my ebony hair. I push her hand away with a gentle pout.

"Okay, Kat. Listen, Burn is... An odd guy. He's a good man, though, met him twice. He ran away from home, as most rudies do and somehow made it big. He just popped up one day as a lone wolf graffiti artist, then got his gang. That's all I know about Crimson Wave and Burn himself." Well, she's more help than I expected. Suddenly, my pocket broke the short lived slience between Shane and I. Couldn't be work, Mr. Laffer would have called earlier in the day. I pull my phone out and the name spooks me.

It's Check. I quickly answer it was fast as my fingers could swipe the touchscreen and press it to my ear. "Check, dude, I've been trying to get a hold of you, man. I wanted to give my answer to Burn." His breathing was fast and heavy, like he ran a marathon.

"Casturo, dude. We're in a gang war, man. Hellhounds, man, Hellhounds. Those bastards... They... They beat the shit outta Viruz... Fuck. His ribcage is all messed up..."

"I'm on my way, where are you guys?"

"We're at Twin Towers Way, but, man, don't get in this, dude, please... You're innocent in all this jazz..." I hung up quickly as I ran out without saying anything to Shane, startling the Sliver Keepers on my way out.

[AN: Sorry if the gang names are cheesy or dumb. I tried hard to think of names that sounded like they could be in JSR. I really need to run through JSRF again to get a feel for the universe again. T_T Oh, and I'll be posting gang costume designs and logos to my DeviantART once I get the chance.]


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Let's Start A Gang War

Casturo POV

You know, as I'm standing on the F bus, I'm starting to think to myself, "God, Kat, you really run into shit without thinking." Check was right, I'm innocent, innocent until my feet step off this rusted bucket of a bus. I could turn back right now, they wouldn't be mad at me, I'm an outsider to this rudie shit. But... I don't want to be an outsider, I wanna just be free like them. I want to have no cares and just feel what they feel, the supposed "soul of the street" I hear of. If breaking the society norm allows this, then fuck it. I breathe in deeply as the bus slows to a crawl at the bus station in Twin Towers Way, pull my hood up as I blend into the crowd of people. I can already see the damage of the gang war from where I stand.

Graffiti paints storefront walls in vivid shades of deep blood red and midnight black, big bubbly lettering with a logo of a stenciled out dog of some kind... A hellhound. I see some of the Hellhounds' work covered by maroon waves outlined in black with a crimson "CW" in the center. It's like that everywhere. No wonder I got dead slience for days... News reporters and Sliver Keepers are flooding this little slice of town. Where are the stars of the hour? They must of ran away to keep fighting or regroup. At least... That's what I am hoping for. I'm trying not to fear the worst at this very moment. I pull my phone out and call up Check, or at least try to. I get his mockingly cheery voicemail instead... Fuck.

I'm really in a bind now, aren't I? I walk around for a moment in a frantic, lost kinda way until I start to listen to a nearby Sliver Keeper on his radio.

"... I'm not sure, sir. The last report I got was from Tibbins and he said he saw them in the abandoned buildings down the way duking it out... What? You don't believe him? But, sir... He's not wrong about thin... Yes, sir... I'll report to HQ immediately..." I hear him grumble 'asshole' underneath his breath before I high tail it to the abandoned apartments.

I could hear my footsteps loud against the bleak hued pavement, could hear my furious heartbeat in my ears... It was maddening. I was afraid of what I'd find there in those run down buildings... Once I hit the courtyard of the old complex of apartments, I look around at everything. I heard voices, unfamiliar, gravelly voices. I hear the swish of roller blade wheels on concrete... Has to be the Hellhounds.

"So... Who the fuck are you, little pup?" I jump from fear at the deep voice, my eyes shoot to a nearby tree. He had a dyed red wolf's head over his own. It was adorned with large horns and glowing golden eyes. I could parely see his face but it was grizzled, like he hadn't shaved in a couple days. Skin looked gaunt and pale like he hadn't been outside in a long while. He looked almost inhuman, but I couldn't see his eyes. Couldn't check if he had a soul or not. The rest of his body was clad in a dark long sleeve shirt, baggy gray cargos with all sorts of paint speckled on it, and large skates that dwarfed the ones that Check and Burn owned.

I feel shaky but I swallow it down harshly. "Who a-am I? I'm Casturo, I'm a Crimson Wave, who are y-you?" He grins like an asshole before looking around the courtyard. I hear skates again, more of them are coming this way. I have no backup, I am the backup. I've gotta run. Now. He starts howling with heavy, mocking laughter. "Run, little pup, run. Run while you've still got legs that carry you."

I turn and sprint to a group of tagged apartments nearby. They have the Crimson Wave logo on them so the must be safe, right? I bust down the heavy oak door I run into with my shoulder. Needless to say, ow. I hear voices. I look around the small, dim lit space with panick in my chest. It could be Hellhounds... Or Sliver Keepers... Both are bad. Really fuckin' bad. A hooded figure enters my line of sight... Oh, God. They stop a few feet away and pull their hood down... It's a girl, a light pink haired girl. What the hell?

"Who the hell are you?" Her voice is mean and stern. I look her dead in her storm gray eyes and open my mouth to reply but another figure limped to her side. It was Burn, beat up a little and bloody.

"Stand down, Mouse... That's Casturo. Dude... Really bad timing... Why are you here?" His tone is worried but tired. I walk to him, and place my hand on his shoulder. He looked at it then looked me right in the eyes. I breathe lightly.

"I'm here to support my gang, Burn." I say gently. He looked surprised then grinned like the devil himself. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to his broad chest in a weak hug. I blushed from embaressment... People don't hug me that often so I always feel awkward when anyone does.

"Maybe we have a chance afterall."

[AN: Sorry if this chapter is a little weak, I kinda had to force myself to finish it. I lacked motivation, sadly. T. T]


End file.
